


Descent

by Minyron



Series: From Hell we come, to Hell we go [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agender Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Alternate Universe - World War II, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Antisemitism, Aryan supremacy, Auschwitz, Blood, Dehumanization, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extreme callousness, Feminization, Genocide, German Theo Raeken, Homophobia, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Mentions of Majdanek, Mentions of actual SS members, Misogyny, Nazi Kink, Nazi apologism rhetoric, Oral Sex, Pain, Physical Abuse, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Behavior, Psychopath Theo Raeken, Racism, Scenting, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, So many kinks really I can't list them all, Stockholm Syndrome, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minyron/pseuds/Minyron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Theo's relationship changes irrevocably with the course of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aleska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleska/gifts).



> Same warnings apply as for Ignominious. 
> 
> So I was inspired and made some time and here it is. There's two more installments after this in the end. Painful stuff is coming. Have some pictures~

 

\---

Stiles sensed the pent up energy in Theo when they were close, his own skin too hot after casual but firm touches. It was not one-sided. As usual, Theo ignored what he’d done to him, and seemed oblivious of how it affected Stiles. He’d done so much worse things than kiss him, but it still had Stiles shuddering from the memory. The way their tongues met, how he corresponded shyly at the end, and it felt just _right_. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Theo used it against him. The only reason he hadn’t yet, he thought, was because he must feel as confused as Stiles. The rationalizations Theo would need to do to process his passions and still be a cold-blooded son of a bitch were beyond Stiles’s grasp. Perhaps he saw him as an actual insect, worthless like he said so many times. It hurt more, because now he sounded like he cared. Stiles couldn’t get it out of his head.

He wanted Theo to let it go, to actually ignore it, because it would be so much easier. But Theo always took what he wanted, and it would be no exception. If the bastard just left him alone, he could be with his father all the time. But without him, his father wouldn’t have been there in the first place, his brain supplied unhelpfully. His father even had an oddly light work compared to his fellow inmates, away from the dangerous areas.

Stiles knew it was selfish, but even with his father there, he actually enjoyed being in the house. He didn’t have to work as hard, to see all the misery of his people, and he could be with Heather. Reason dictated that he shouldn’t rest so assured, that Theo could still turn at any point and his father wouldn’t be so well fed. But he couldn’t be paranoid forever; it took a toll he couldn’t bear anymore. Not with his incipient emotional turmoil.

Not when Theo pushed him against his room’s desk, facing the window, on a grey day. It was almost playful. He was on a good mood.

It was so obscene. He felt his blood rush with anticipation, and a tingling sensation ran down his spine when Theo took one of his hands and placed it slowly over the table. He covered it fully with his own, pinning him down. He nosed at Stiles’s neck, and he couldn’t remain unaffected. Stiles let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes.

Perhaps if he didn’t look at the smoke and ash, he wouldn’t feel as guilty of what he was doing. Letting himself be raped, body and soul; while their people removed his own from the face of the Earth.

“I know you want it”, Theo said, leaving scruff burns over Stiles’s neck.

“Tell me you do”, Theo added, pressing his thigh between Stiles’s legs, opening them and making space for himself there.

Stiles was pushed forward onto the desk. He rested his forearm over the dark wood, bending just the slightest, and then his ass made contact with Theo’s crotch.

“I want it”, Stiles sighed, opening his eyes again. A single tear pooled on the corner before it rolled down his cheek.

He felt like he was an accomplice to the worst crime of mankind. He could never forgive himself.

*

The first time wasn’t too rushed, but it was intense. After Stiles had consented, Theo was quick to push their pants down and roll Stiles’s white shirt up his back. He stood there in silent contemplation, admiring the knobs at the end of his spine and the smooth globes of his ass. He pressed his throbbing cock against Stiles’s crack, sliding it up and down a few times, making Stiles reel in anticipation. He could tell how hungry Theo was.

It was rough, but not violent. Theo fucked him as deep and fast as he needed to come, building up a pace and staying there until his breathing hitched. Stiles had learned to be quiet with the years, so the other boy’s sounds and the thuds of his body against the wood filled the room. Stiles stared at the clouds and surrendered to the sensation of being stretched relentlessly. He could feel his body accommodate for Theo, and he knew he would be able to feel it later, a constant reminder of how much it excited him.  

Some minutes later, Theo had come deep inside Stiles. Unlike when they kissed, though, he didn’t bolt.  He plastered himself over Stiles’s back, riding the afterwaves of his climax in a blissful silence, exhaling against Stiles’s nape. Stiles was the one that wanted to go. He’d swallowed his seed before, but now he could feel it dripping down his thigh, from where it had filled his inside. He was fully impaled on Theo’s cock, which was still hard and twitching, stirring things inside him he didn’t know he could feel. He came hard against the wood, shaking a little, unable to hold it in anymore.

Theo seemed happy. He calmly told Stiles to clean up the table. He let Stiles use his personal bathroom for the first time, where he cleaned himself up thoroughly in the bathtub. He knew he should feel sullied, because he was, he had been forced. He was Theo’s slave, and he had no actual choice in anything. Instead, he felt comfortably rested, hot water lulling him to sleep.

He startled when Theo came in the room, wearing only shorts. Stiles quickly rose and grabbed the towel to dry himself up. Instead of scolding him, Theo just smiled. He stared at Stiles’s long neck, raising his eyebrows. Stiles swallowed, apprehensive.

“Your neck is too red”, Theo said, “but nobody can see you like that. Do you understand?”

“I’ll hide it well, Sir”, Stiles replied, relieved it was not some punishment for having the marks.

“Yes, and let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again”, Theo replied, holding a razor, “Get dressed and help me shave.”

Stiles nodded, hurrying outside the room to get his clothes.

*

After the first time, Theo built up a routine. He silently acknowledged what they did, had seem to come to terms with it, but that didn’t mean he spoke about it. Obviously it was a touchy subject. Theo’d boss him around for the day like he always had; and at night, when they were alone, things took a different turn.

He never rushed it. Theo took him on the floor, against the sink; he made him kneel and take him into his mouth. Sometimes during stolen hours, and even in risky places like the kitchen or the backyard. He took pleasure from Stiles in every way he could, and he didn’t quite touch Stiles, but he also came every time anyway. Stiles had learned that it took a few hours for his ass to hurt afterwards, but he was stretched enough that the initial burn became pleasurable. Theo gave him the time he needed to open up, and not one second more.

 As spring came to an end, Theo welcomed his cat, Zamiel, into the household. The feline had come from their house in Berlin, all beautiful black fur. With surely bad news from several fronts, which had Stiles on guard, there was hardly a time when Theo wasn’t irked. The only time he was not screaming was when he was alone in his room, relaxing from his duties. Stiles had still to gather any valuable information to tell his father; despite treating servants as objects most of the time, the officers were still too intelligent for everyone’s good. Unlike most of the aspiring soldiers he’d met, Theo didn’t underestimate the good skills of Herr Raeken, and discipline and discretion were certainly among them. No one blabbered in the household when there were servants in the room.

Still, Theo hadn’t payed his frustrations with him. Quite the opposite – when Theo was in a good mood, he’d fuck him softly. He’d talk between heated whispers, praising him and sometimes taking his own pleasure into consideration. He’d nip at his neck and ear and when he got too carried away, suck hickeys onto his skin, pinch his nipples; making Stiles moan despite himself. Theo knew the power he had over Stiles and he’d come to harness it. Sometimes he made Stiles sleep with him, staying all through the night and then fucking him awake. He’d pin his wrists above his head and look down as he slid inside him.

“ _Do you like that_ ”, he’d say, “ _Do you like to be fucked like a girl?_ ”, as he pounded into him from behind, when they were on their knees on the bed. Theo found Stiles’s spot; mean, sharp jerks leaving him on edge, making him needy for _more_. Making him want his cock.  

“ _I’m not a girl_ ”, Stiles would reply, when he was too caught up to notice he shouldn’t talk back.

Theo seemed receptive, though, and he’d humor him, “ _What are you for me, then? I don’t care that you’re a boy”_.

Feverish, Stiles said what he felt, “ _I’m just me._ ”

 _“You can be yourself when you’re with me. Are you mine, Stiles? Say you’re mine”_ , Theo urged, hot breath burning Stiles’s sweaty nape.

 _“I’m yours_ ”, Stiles confessed with a shaky voice, as release washed over him.

The only leverage Stiles had was that sometimes, Theo would lose himself too. They almost kissed again, too distracted in a post-orgasmic haze, but Theo moved away and it left Stiles _wanting_. He knew he shouldn’t want it, but he did, he did so much his heart ached that their mouths were apart. Like he could never be whole without the contact. It was the worst thing he’d wanted in his life, and he’d give anything for it during those moments. Theo wouldn’t yield, though, and when he got too close he’d just grab Stiles’s throat. He’d pin him down, thrusting as the Jew lay on his stomach.

He’d press hard enough Stiles gasped for air. His climax was so much more intense when everything felt dizzy, when he was _actually_ suffocating for Theo. 

*

In reality, Theo hadn’t quite come to terms with what he had with Stiles; he had just pushed it to the back of his mind. When he was alone, looking from the window as Zamiel chased a mouse down the hill, things made sense. It was simple. He was hungry for Stiles; he was confused, but he could make it work. Nobody had to know, he’d hide it well. Theo knew how to deceive. And if he let himself be carried too far at times, well, who didn’t have their excesses? What did it matter in the big picture? It wouldn’t affect his mission.

When he was with his father and the other SS members, though, he actually realized he was crossing a line. No matter it was a boy, because he honestly could not be bothered by that too – but a Polish Jew. Patriotic German people were dying in the war to annihilate the enemy, and in his own house, he was treating one of them like they were _something more_ , something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but definitely not the way Untermenschen ought to be treated. They didn’t deserve privilege, they didn’t deserve protection; they definitely didn’t deserve a kiss. Stiles was a deviant for enjoying the things done to his body, but that didn’t mean Theo had to be too. He was still a healthy male and he knew well what he liked and what he didn’t.

One Saturday, when Theo was particularly upset, he went down to the barracks himself to take Stiles back. When the boy had said goodbye to his father and they were walking to the house, Theo found himself coming across Irma and a quite beautiful-looking young woman. He stopped in front of her, not moving to the side, and she did as well. Stiles tensed up and stopped too, awkwardly placing his hands behind his back and looking down in submission.

“My, my”, Irma said, looking amused at Theo, “I didn’t know you’d keep this one for so long; you finally realized the girl you stole from me wasn’t quite your… taste?”, she dared, punctuating the question with a smirk.

Theo tried to speak but faltered. His face went blank before it filled up with rage. He stuttered a bit. Irma was on a very different behavior when he’d been around her with the SS members.

“W-What are you insinuating, asocial bitch?”, he blurted.

Irma laughed at him, the noise so unpleasant Stiles cringed and almost took a step back. Theo was still giving her the dead glare, but she wasn’t intimidated at all. She looked at Stiles, even pointing at him.

“Cut the crap. You know what I’m saying. It’s not like others understand what we see, the way we do. They’ll never get it”, she explained, “but oh, _I_ do. And I’ve noticed”, she said suggestively, taking a step closer. She invaded Theo’s space, pointedly looking at Stiles.

Theo was frozen on the spot, and Stiles was trying his hardest not to bolt, all senses telling him to _get away_ and do so _fast_.

“I really get it. I’m not asocial; I’m just having my fun while I’m young. And so are you, at least you don’t have to worry about abortions! If you were doing well, though”, she whispered in Theo’s ear, loud enough that Stiles could hear, “he shouldn’t be able to walk straight”.

Stiles would never forget the way she looked at him, serpentine eyes in sync with the sick satisfaction in her voice. He barely registered Theo blushing, the way he coughed and dashed forward after Irma had left. She’d been so vibrant and proud of herself, her servant limping by her side, that it made him horrified to make connections.

It wasn’t the only reason Stiles would remember that day, though.

*

Theo changed his attitude towards Stiles with the summer months. The weather was hotter and drier, and Theo broke a sweat more easily when he went for his jogs. He also increased the rhythm of his escapades with Stiles; not allowing him to leave for the camp at any point, under the reassurance his father was fine. He said that Heather was lonely without him.

The sex was more violent.  Theo no longer waited for Stiles to be prepared, said it was better, that he loved the way his little cunt clenched around his cock. He bent Stiles over on the bed and pounded into him from behind, so hard Stiles hit the header over and over. It left him hurting for days, sometimes he bled, and he cursed that he believed it hurt _before_.

It seemed to spiral downwards. Theo started hitting Stiles during sex, mixing his anticipation with the fear of pain and the shame that he got off on the humiliation. Theo started insulting him again, calling him names as he took off his belt and whipped his ass. He made sure to let Stiles know how sick it was to get hard while being spanked, to come with fingers buried deep inside, looking into his eyes. He mocked the sweet kiss they once had, raping his mouth with his tongue while he choked him, cock always fucking into him. Stiles wanted to cry, but his body betrayed him again and again, responding to the pleasure. The pain made him feel a thousand times more intensely, and the mean words sent shivers down his spine.

And for all Theo called Stiles a deviant, there was often a wet spot over his crotch. He was methodic when he opened Stiles up with a bottle of wine, punishing him and laughing; yet he was eager to free his own cock, too tight and sensitive where it was tenting his pants. He fumbled to get it in the right place and fucked Stiles with urgency, laughter replaced by deep breaths. Stiles’s walls tensed around him, too sensitive at the intrusion, not being given a second to rest.

Theo would still come inside Stiles, and sometimes he’d spit inside his mouth too, to remind him his worth. 

One day when he was seething with rage at some news, he carried Stiles to the bathtub. He got his servant naked and just whipped his cock out to urinate all over him. When it had cooled down, liquid dripping down his chest, Theo was panting, cock hard in his own firm grip. He looked down at Stiles, uniform boots pressing at his heart and an icy stare piercing down his golden eyes. It was pure hatred.

“ _Don’t ever forget, you’re **mine**_ ”

Stiles was breathless.

*

Irma kept bugging Theo, dropping unsubtle remarks when no one could hear them, trying to make him uncomfortable.

“You men are all so uptight. Wonder comes out of perversion. So many good things happen when you loosen up, and many of you will never tell”, she said, pointing at him with a whip’s handle.

Theo was resting on the wall, failing to ignore her. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her.

“Oh, I know what happens alright. My mother was a whore too”, he pointed with a smirk.

Irma scoffed and left, making an obscene gesture at him.

“You’re impossible”, she yelled from the distance.

*

When Theo was not raping him, he was never physically violent. Stiles wondered if he ever regretted anything. He still reassured Stiles that he was better off with him, with his protection. That his father was safe, that it could be so much worse if it wasn’t for his sympathy.

Until he stopped talking about the man.

By July, Stiles hadn’t seen his father in well over a month; he hadn’t gone down to the camp. His hair had grown enough, not subject to the shaving policies that applied to inmates. He didn’t particularly miss the camp, but he did miss his father. And before he could muster the courage to ask Theo, Irma visited their house and he overheard their chat.

His father was gone. He’d been showered with poison, suffocated. The Russians had captured Majdanek, and the killing machine had sped up.

Stiles had a panic attack, and Heather helped him through the night. Theo avoided him for days.

*

Theo felt apprehensive about approaching Stiles, looking for a way to tell him the news and appease him. He’d used his father’s well-being for leverage so much that he was actually pissed the man had been killed. Majdanek’s capture had thrown the remaining camps into chaos and there had been nothing he could do. Before he knew, his father had received and sent notifications without his knowledge on the same day. He had done it to punish him, he was sure. Reinhardt Raeken didn’t approve of having a Jew on his house; he was just too cowardly to defy him directly. But now _Stiles_ could get defiant, and that would not end up well. He knew Stiles would obey, in the end, but he didn’t want to deal with the difficulty.

He needed to make him understand, somehow, that he still had to be on his good side.

“Why is this so hard for me?”, Theo said out loud, petting Zamiel by the window.

The cat stopped purring and frowned at him, his blue and yellow eyes reflecting a lack of worry he longed for. If only the glory of war came without its responsibilities.

*

“You promised me, Theo”, Stiles cried, hugging Theo’s waist as he knelt crying on the floor. He made Theo’s shirt wet, and the German sighed.

“Stiles, I’ve explained it to you”, Theo replied tiredly, “you have to get over it sooner or later”, he said with a hint of impatience.

Stiles looked up at him, something dark pouring into his eyes.

“I hate you”, he said, gritting his teeth, “I hate you so much, you narcissistic son of a bitch.”

Theo’s eyes widened, taking half a step back and leaving Stiles balancing himself.

“You believe yourselves gods, but your perfect killing machine will collapse on itself. You believed yourself powerful and you’re as useless as any foot soldier. I hope the Communists will burn you alive”, he spat with rage.

 Theo punched Stiles, sending him off balance and making him hit the floor face first. He bled profusely with a broken nose, shedding tears again for long minutes.

Theo kicked him on the ribs repeatedly, face distorted in anger. He made Heather clean the mess afterwards, when Stiles was unconscious.

*

For the first time in many years, Theo couldn’t sleep, Stiles’s words hurting him in ways he didn’t know he could be hurt.

*

They didn’t talk about it afterwards, but Theo resumed his sexual encounters the way they had before Irma. He didn’t demand an apology for Stiles’s fit, but he also didn’t mention his father anymore. Instead, he dropped vague hints on the safety of Heather.

Theo hadn’t hit him again either, and when he raped him he was gentle.

Stiles was lying on his back naked, legs up in the air, spread open so Theo had room to fuck him. The German was also completely naked, rolling his hips slowly, panting into Stiles’s ear as he took him. Soon he shifted, carelessly moving his scruff against the side of Stiles’s neck and his throat. He scented him, satisfying his wolf, making the delicate skin rage red. He moved his head to look at Stiles’s face, staring at his eyes as he punctuated it with a very sudden and deep thrust.

“Say you love me”, Theo pleaded, a shaky whisper, his lips just grazing Stiles’s.

Stiles was like a ragdoll, shaken by Theo’s motions. His head hit the headboard with a soft thud each time Theo pulled out halfway and slid inside again. His dead stare fixated on Theo’s blue eyes, honest and bare, and his lips became a tight line.

“I hate you”, he whispered as well; but his voice didn’t waver.

“You can’t command me to feel”

Theo let out a sigh, biting his lip before he stopped. He looked hurt for a brief second, before his expression changed into something more like disappointment and resignation.

“Very well”, he said deadpan, as he turned Stiles over on the bed.

Theo pushed Stiles’s face onto the pillow, fisting his hair. His screams were muffled when Theo started breaching him with an insane pace. The strength of his thrusts was unnatural, actually hurting his body, stretching him too much with too little time to recover. Stiles knew from experience it would come out dyed pink later.

And yet, somehow, it hurt less than if they’d kissed. Stiles didn’t regret a thing he’d said. He hadn’t come by the time Theo stilled inside him, biting his shoulder _hard_ with long fangs. Fresh blood stained the sheets, but his mind was somewhere far away from his body. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked! It means a lot to me.


End file.
